


our love for each other will live on forever

by escapedthesarlacc



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Description of Grief, Gen, dream - Freeform, jango's death, minor injury described, visitation dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapedthesarlacc/pseuds/escapedthesarlacc
Summary: Boba has had no choice but to move on without his father but Jango is never far from his mind. One night, Boba dreams about Jango and gets the closure he always wanted.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	our love for each other will live on forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a passion piece for me, Boba’s loss and trauma reminds me of my own. It’s something that has completely changed and shaped him and I tried to capture a little bit of that here.
> 
> Also, I didn't put a specific age on Boba for a reason. Grief never goes away, it's always there, laying in wait.
> 
> kotir adiik- brave child

The anger had faded as time passed. What was once a burning rage of revenge had at some point turned into acceptance. Jango was gone, Boba knew that. Boba knew it the moment he saw the lightsaber slice through his father’s neck when he held the empty helmet in his hands and the smell of burnt flesh made his stomach turn. But how was it possible? Jango could outrun anyone, he was tougher than anyone Boba knew. Jango taught him to fight, how to balance his body weight underneath him, how to make sure his opponent never had the upper hand. In his eyes, his father was an impenetrable mass, solid and sturdy as the ground beneath his feet. But Boba learned that the ground could become unsteady and give way underneath you, leaving you scrambling for safety.

The memories grew hazy as Boba got older. He clung to the flashes of his past as they came to him, glimpses of what it was like to be loved once. He remembered once falling as Jango chased him, his father’s laughter like a song ringing in his ear. Boba didn’t know he had cut his knee until he looked down and saw the crimson blood seeping through his pant leg. The sight scared him and he screamed, his fingers covered in red as he reached to touch it. “Boba,” his father said as he scooped him up, his voice calm and steady as ever, “Boba, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

He placed his son on the ‘fresher counter, gently cleaning the wound with soap and warm water. Boba felt fat tears roll down his cheeks, sniffing as his breathing calmed. “See?” Jango said, “All better.”

Boba flexed his leg, the bandage snug against his skin. “My  _ kotir adiik _ ,” Jango whispered, wiping away his son’s tears with his thumb, “You’re alright.”

Jango never told Boba to be stronger or braver, he let him be a child and experience his emotions. And in the end, that was what made Boba a warrior. It made him strong. Boba knew even if he failed, his father would be there to remind him there was always another day. The cut on his knee was long healed but Boba had plenty of scars now, stories of failure and success etched onto his body. 

He saw Jango everywhere, from the small planets and backwater towns where fathers gently scooped up their sons as he walked past to his own reflection in the mirror at night. He spent more time than he cared to admit staring at his own face, knowing that the face looking back was his own and not at the same time. It was a strange feeling. 

He laid awake most nights, because nights were always the worst, replaying that awful moment on Geonosis again and again. He could hear the roar of the crowd, the hum of the lightsabers, the gasps of horror as the unspeakable happened. Boba felt the pain like a fresh wound every time, the sharp pain of realization like ice running down the back of his neck. It didn’t matter how many rotations had passed, it always felt the same.

If he only had one more moment, five more minutes, what would he say to his father? What would he  _ want  _ to hear from him? Boba fantasized about it, some alternate universe where Jango was still alive, where he laughed and played just as Boba remembered him.

The dream had become common enough that Boba knew when to anticipate it. A long hallway led to a door that seemed to whisper his name.  _ Open it, open it.  _ Boba knew what was on the other side, he had been here before, but his fingers shook with adrenaline as he reached to push the door open. The stark white walls of the room were not unlike the old apartment on Kamino and yet had none of the warmth Boba remembered from his youth. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall, the familiar whoosh of the door closing behind him was a sound he had heard at least a dozen times by now. “Boba,” the voice said.

Boba had never turned around before, always waking up before he saw his face. He always found himself alone in his cot, the beeps and hums of Slave I his only company. Not tonight.

“Boba,” the voice called his name again.

“I don’t want to wake up,” Boba said, his back still turned.

“Turn around,  _ kotir adiik _ .”

Jango looked younger somehow. Not as young as Boba, but younger than he remembered him. The familiar scars and creases still lined his face, but gone was the worry and tension he so often carried with him. “Look at you,” his father said, his arms outstretched.

Emotion choked Boba’s throat, though there was a part of him reminding him this was no different than looking in the mirror. No, Boba told himself, stepping forward, this was different.

Jango’s hands touched his and Boba  _ felt  _ him. His eyes widened as he looked down at Jango’s fingers. It felt so real, the warmth radiating from his palms, the familiar calluses scraping at Boba’s skin. Just the way he remembered. “I am so proud of you,” Jango said and Boba noticed his familiar dark eyes grow wet with emotion.

“Buir,” Boba choked, an unexpected sob rising in his chest, “I need you.”

Jango laughed, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin, “Adiik, you know I am never far from you.”

Boba recalled the dark nights after Jango died, a time he had never felt more truly lonely in his life. He slept curled up on his father’s cot, wearing his old clothes and smelling his pillow, desperately trying to conjure him back into existence. When the pillow lost that familiar comforting scent, Boba flew into a rage, nearly destroying everything that once belonged to his father. He remembered sitting in the carnage of torn clothing and dented metal and sobbing. No amount of destruction could ease the pain he felt, he realized. That night when Boba slept, he felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in days. As his eyes grew heavy and his breathing slowed, he almost swore he felt the familiar brush of fingertips on his cheek.

Boba looked at his father, squeezing his hands in his. He knew he was crying, he felt the tears trace down his face, but he couldn’t look away. “You have become everything I hoped you’d be,” Jango said, “Everything I ever wanted for you.”

Jango embraced him, his strong arms pulling his son tighter against his chest. At that moment, Boba didn’t feel grown, he didn’t feel lonely. He felt like he was a child again and he sobbed against his father’s chest, the familiar smell of Jango comforting him. “Please stay with me,” he pleaded, his fingers gripping the back of Jango’s shirt.

“I cannot stay. But I’m always with you, my son.”

Boba’s eyes opened, his face wet with tears. The smell of Jango’s cologne still lingered as Boba sunk deeper into his pillow, his eyes fixated on the spot above him. Sleep came easier that night.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr:  
> escapedthesarlacc.tumblr.com


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